


At Worlds End

by Judgement



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judgement/pseuds/Judgement
Summary: You had been bitten but somehow didn't turn. You were immune and in a desperate attempt to keep them from killing you, you had fled. [Abandoned/Unfinished work][Zombie!AU][Reader x Bucky Barnes]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another unfinished story, mostly because I didn't like how I was writing it. I may pick up the genre/storyline in the future and rewrite this.

It was five months ago when the entire world seemingly plunged into chaos and anarchy when a virus was unleashed upon a population in a biological terrorist attack. But no one knows for sure if those who had unleashed it knew what it would have become, or if the catastrophe that followed after was their initial plan all along.

The attack had been in Europe, at the time before everything went down and contact was lost, speculation was that it was done by a small terrorist group meant to target specific political parties and take them out. What followed next was horrific in its own right, the terrorist plot spiraled out of control when more and more people came down with it. Water was shut off, afraid that whatever it was, was being spread through the water system to affect so many people in such a short time. After that, the symptoms for those who got caught in the attack seemingly worsened. Spiked fevers, hallucinations, delirium, seizures, the list went on and on and they were quarantined effectively.

But it hadn’t been enough.

No one knew what to think of it, no one could find a cure for it, either. They scrambled to hold the spreading infection at bay, but even the strongest antibiotics couldn’t touch the surface of this thing, and soon the first victim of the terrorist attack passed away. Afraid of what would happen if they buried the body it had been scheduled to be burned in a controlled area, to keep it from spreading airborne if that was a possibility.

The second week after the beginning catastrophe in Europe brought panic worldwide, when similar attacks exploded all over the world, infecting more and more countries. It became a global pandemic and state of emergencies went off worldwide, borders were closed down and no one was allowed out or in countries, if you had been traveling you weren’t allowed to return home until the crisis was dealt with, leaving many people and families who had traveled, stranded. 

The second month is when things went from bad to ugly when those who had been infected and died began piling up, when there was more death on the news than anything else and when the first attacks began happening. Those that had seemingly died coming back to life, spiraling out of control before anybody knew what was going on, the parts of Europe first attacked went silent, radio stations and TV channels were dead and no one could cross borders or dared to, to find out what happened.

Eventually, they didn’t need to, the rest of the world followed suit, the dead came back and infected people faster than anybody knew what to do. Military personnel was immediately called to help set up safe houses, the uncontrollable epidemic spiraled into complete and utter chaos and those that hadn’t yet been burned, numbers well into the millions immediately were back to life and infecting others. 

You were given no time to collect your belongings when the military came through your small town, during your summer vacation from college. You were immediately evacuated with the clothes you had on your back and brought to their makeshift military base where you, your mother, father, and brother were herded through sanitation rooms, stripped of your old clothes and given new ones. Blood samples were taken and you were all shuffled into a large room with more cots and half the population of your small town was kept. Distressed cries filled the room and anxiety welled in your bones, you had left everything behind during the evacuation to this place, you had no way to check on your friends, to find out if they were all right.

You could only wait.

But waiting didn’t stop the epidemic, the precautions they took didn’t stop it from spreading. Soon enough you weren’t sure how people had gotten infected but they had, and the people you had been staying in this large room with were falling ill, and soon they were herded one by one to another area, off the base where they would be cared for.

Somehow your gut told you, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out how exactly they were being cared for. You could hear the desperate whispers of the military, and the radios you had all been given were filled with nothing but white noise and static, the entire U.S. was cut off like the rest of the world was.

Weeks later your mother and father started showing the same signs, and not wanting to infect you or your brother despite your protests to not tell the military guards, they willingly did so.

That was the last time you saw them.

Your brother started showing early symptoms too, terrified to lose your brother you kept it hidden for as long as you could. It wasn’t until you were all required for a checkup that they found out, but he was showing surprising signs of resisting the infection and so instead of moving him to where your parents were, to where you were absolutely positive they were all simply shot rather than risk infecting any more people, they took him to another room somewhere on site.

More and more people fell to the infection, the once crowded room full of neighbors and people you knew now was practically empty. From hundreds of people squashed together and practically sitting on top of one another to a strangely barren room that housed no more than twenty of you. The skylights that provided your only source of light remained open, keeping the air flowing and the hot air out while the windows that lined the wall remained nailed shut with bars over them. It felt like a maddening prison and you weren’t sure you could continue lasting like this, you never got to see your brother though you were assured he was showing real signs of improvement and they were hoping to use his blood to somehow find a cure.

It was another month before you were allowed to see your brother, and the sight of him made your stomach drop into your chest. He was skin and bones, deathly pale and it horrified you into speechlessness as he sat at the table across from you, looking every bit as tired as someone struggling against death.

“Chris?” Your own voice is quiet, scratchy from misuse, from days, weeks of little to no talking. “I hear they say you’re getting better.” You try to be optimistic, hope that the worst has come and gone and he was on the road to recovery, to weight gain and looking like himself but the dimly lit room by the setting sun, the first sunset you’ve seen in what feels like forever doesn’t hide the shadows on his face. 

“How you feeling?” You try again, reaching across the table and placing your hand over his, squeezing it gently and he gives a small grunt, looking up at you with glazed eyes. It’s only what happens next that sends your entire life spiraling further than it already was, he lunges across the table with a delirious look in his eyes, the impact throws the chair, him landing on top of you and the moment your chair hits the floor with you still in it there’s pain in your shoulder and you’re screaming. The pain blooms in your shoulder and you struggle to throw your brother off you, tears of pain build up and the floodgates release, trickling down your cheeks as you struggle against him. The sound of the door being thrown open is lost upon your hysterical screaming and the shot that rings through the air silences you and your brother who’s blood hits the side of your face and pools against your shoulder and onto the floor.

They shot your brother on top of you.

His body is ripped off of you and the entire world feels slow, surreal and the tears keep coming and the ache in your chest rips open, lips twitching down in a disgusting frown as your entire body trembles and you hiccup, swallowing down sobs as they pull you away from the puddle of blood and haul you to your feet. They are shouting at you, patting you down asking you questions but it’s all muffled by the gas masks they wear and one hand rips down your shirt and exposes the large bite mark that’s reached bone.

You can hear them shout that you’re infected, feel their arms on you as they grapple onto you like you’ll become a savage any minute and try to maul them. Hiking your arms up high so you’re practically walking on the tip of your toes to keep the pain away, but at the same time, you barely feel it compared the aching hole ripped into your chest. They had shot him in front of you.

Nobody says a word as you’re hauled out of the room, the doctors looking forlorn, some with their heads in their hands and others you can catch the brief words of improvement, hope, and failure. You know that they had been expecting high things from your brother, that maybe he had been the way to a cure because of how well he had been fighting it off but it was only a matter of time before it took him.

It was only a matter of time before it took you.

Panic floods your system the second the cool outside air of late winter hits you and everything comes back at once as they haul you over to the jeep. Adrenaline makes your hands shake and you can feel your heart pounding in your ears when the little conscious voice in your head whispers to you.

_They’re going to take us away to kill us, put us down like sheep in a slaughterhouse._

It’s that fear and paranoia that forces you to move, years of martial arts training and competitions you’ve entered, won or lose flood into your body and the second one of them breaks away to head to the driver seat you rip your arm away from the military guard who still has a hold on you. Your hand hits his jaw disorientating him for only a split second before he’s attempting to retaliate, and you hit again, a knee to the gut, a kick to the groin and as he bends over your knee comes back up and smashed into his nose. Blood coats your knee and he hits the ground hard, his partner comes around but you’ve already moved, grabbing the gun that the first military guard dropped and bolting around the jeep.

Distant shots can be heard but you weave through the other military vehicles, to the supply crates they have littered about until your lungs burn, until the compound they had taken you to is only a distant speck. 

It’s exactly five months after the first terrorist attack that you find yourself here, two cities over alone and with only your backpack with a handful of things, the gun you stole from the officer and an aching shoulder and paranoia so strong you’re sure you’ve developed a tick from how often you swivel your head around. It’s been months since you heard from your friends since you heard from anyone. Your first instinct had been to find your parents, see if they were alive but somehow you feared that the military would be there, waiting for you to show up. Waiting to strike you down like the other infected people but unlike them, you hadn’t shown any symptoms of the spreading disease, and while the wound itself was infected it was only because you hadn’t found any usable medical supplies to clean it up. You managed to wrap some clean clothes that you had torn up to cover the wound but you knew it was dirty, infected from the bacteria in your brother's mouth, but you were simply thankful that you hadn’t shown any real symptoms of the disease. It also ached because there was no rest for it, you barely had time to rest yourself before you were moving again, moving until you managed to get to your boyfriend's house and prayed to all the Gods who would listen that he was okay.


End file.
